


The future's a mystery and anything goes

by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know, It's really just a lot of, Kissing, M/M, Niall is mentioned - Freeform, Sad Harry, So much kissing, Suicide, There is no smut, but Louis cheers him up, but not Harry, harry cries a lot, oh yeah, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry/pseuds/Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't leave me, too."</p>
<p>"Never."</p>
<p>Or the one where Harry's father commits suicide, and Louis is there to pick up the pieces that he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The future's a mystery and anything goes

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on the song This Isn't the End by Owl City and an experience that one of my friends had. The title is also from the song, and I recommend listening to it while you read or whenever you get the chance.

It isn't that Harry hadn't known that something was wrong because he had. The signs had all been there. He just never imagined that it had gotten so bad. It all started when his father lost his job. Money had been tight even before, but the the loss of his father's income was absolutely crippling. Des took it hard, like it was his fault that he had gotten laid off, that the company had to downsize, that the economy was in the gutter. No matter how many times Harry and his mother told him that it was unavoidable, Des still grimaced and walked off, leaving Harry to wonder how he might cheer up his father.

During times of emotional distress, many people turn to drinking, so Harry didn't think much of it when Des began to consume more alcohol. Harry's mother didn't have the time nor energy to worry about it for her job took up the majority of her time. Their income solely came from the three jobs that she worked. Anne is truly a blessing. Both Des and Harry knew it.

Along with Des' increased alcohol intake, he began to sleep less. He became more irritable. Talking to him became a dreaded experience as Des withdrew from the world and his own family. Harry hated seeing his father so upset, but what was he to do? Anne had already tried to plead with the company. They told her that there was nothing they could do before apologizing and hanging up. 

Economic problems often cause tension in the home, so Harry tried not to think too much of it when his mother and father began to fight. The fights started off small, just Anne telling Des that he needed to get a job if they wanted to keep the home. When Des didn't respond Anne continued pressing. She was taken aback when her normally good natured husband yelled at her, his voice shaking the home and rattling Harry. The boy didn't hear anymore of the fight for he had hidden under his covers and plugged his ears with his fingers. The next fights included yelling on both counterparts along with door slamming as Anne went to work. Harry pretended that he hadn't heard anything and most certainly didn't bring it up.

The fights became a regular thing, happening almost every day before Anne went to work and before Harry was set to wake up for school. They thought that they were being clever, but Harry was awake for every single one, every single boom of their voices, every single slam of the door. Harry goes to school every morning with a smile on his face and pretends that everything is okay despite the obvious fact that nothing is okay. He tells his parents about how Niall got a detention for taking to some girl that he has a crush on and once again pretends that everything is okay to the very people that know it isn't. Little does Harry know, there is no point in faking it anymore.

Before he goes to sleep that night he gives his mother, who is about to go off to work, a kiss and tells her goodnight before waving his goodnight to his father. Something about his father is different, and it scares Harry. He doesn't want to do anything that might upset him, send him flying off the rails. Harry says goodnight to his father, but he makes the mistake of not telling him that he loves him no matter what. 

Harry is asleep less than peacefully in his bed when he sees a shadow cross his doorway. This immediately piques his interest, and he goes to investigate. The shadow turns out to be his father, but Harry's curiosity is not yet quenched. It's three in the morning therefore his mother still has a few more hours of work left, so Des cannot be going to apologize. Harry's mind attempts to come up with a reasonable explanation for his father's odd activity. He can't seem to find one, so he follows his father quietly.

On most occasions, Harry is a bit of klutz. It's not his fault that he hasn't quite grown into his long legs and abnormally large hands. It must be by some miracle that Harry doesn't alert his father to his presence. Especially when he trips over his own feet and stumbles slightly. Des still just keeps walking to the kitchen presumably. Harry makes extra sure that he doesn't make any more stupid moves.

His presumption of his father's destination being the kitchen is correct because there Des stands in the middle of the floor with his eyes closed. Harry freezes up with fear as he watches his father's arm raise. In his hand, a gun. Harry wants to scream, he wants to run and yank the gun away, he wants to tell his father that suicide is not a viable option, but all he can do is stare with wide eyes as Des cocks the gun. The gunshot is akin to a button that un-mutes Harry for as soon as the trigger is pulled, Harry's voice booms like the bullet from the barrel of his mouth.

~~~

Louis Tomlinson has a habit of being in the wrong place at the worst time. As a child, he had once witnessed a bank robbery. In his early teenage years, he always seemed to be present for the worst of his parent's fights. Apparently his bad luck streak knows no end even if it is only a few weeks after his birthday. 

The only reason Louis is even out so late that night is because his car broke down, and he needs his parents to help him out. Louis is grumbling to himself about how cold January's are when he hears it. First it's a gunshot then a blood curdling scream that makes his heart stop. Louis doesn't have time to think about what possible danger he could be putting himself into. He just darts into the house that the noise came from. The sight he sees is enough to put him into a mental institution for the rest of his life.

There, lying on the floor in a pool of what has to be his own blood, is a man. Standing above the man, sobbing violently and crying out the words, "no," and, "dad," is a boy that appears to be just a few years younger than Louis himself. Examining the scene further, Louis notices a gun in the man's hand. It's that moment when Louis figures out what had happened. He steps over to the boy and pulls him into his chest, rubbing the young boy's back soothingly. The boy continues to sob into Louis' chest, wetting his new shirt with the warm salty water, but Louis can't find himself to become upset. Not when this boy has obviously been through so much.

Louis knows that he should call the police to report this or at least ask where the boy's mother is, but when Louis looks down at the small boy who is just crying and whimpering into Louis' chest, he knows that it might be too much too soon. When Louis' own father left, he didn't talk about it for weeks. 

Calling the police seems to be unnecessary for they come a few seconds after the boy has run out of tears and is just blubbering the same words over and over again. Louis prevents the boy from looking as the paramedics declare his father dead and cover him before taking him to the ambulance. A police officer walks over to Louis and ushers him and the boy outside to an empty ambulance. Louis sits down and allows the boy to climb onto his lap and continue puling.

The boy finally looks up at Louis with innocent, wide green eyes that are filled to the brim with tears. Louis notices that the boy is absolutely beautiful even though he has just lost his father and has been crying nonstop for the past half hour. The boy's curls frame his mournful face in a way that makes him appear to be a glorious angel. The only thing Louis can do is give the boy a soft smile.

"Please don't leave me, too," the boy pleads, nearly mewling.

Louis doesn't know the boy at all. He doesn't even know his name. He's been calling him 'the boy' this entire time, but no one with a heart would tell the poor boy no. Besides that, Louis has no intention of leaving the gorgeous boy anytime soon.

"Never," Louis assures him, pressing a kiss onto the boy's forehead.

It seems to be almost too much for the boy because he wraps his arms around Louis' torso and continues to cry. Louis pets his curls slowly to pacify him and soon enough, the boy's grip loosens and a small snore that has Louis all but cooing escapes from his mouth. As he continues his petting, Louis watches the scene unfold around him. A group of police are gathered around in a circle discussing something, the ambulance with who Louis can only assume is the boy's father zooms off, and there seems to be a small crowd of people that are also watching everything play out, picking up everything they can.

Rushing towards them is a tall woman with her dark hair up in a bun. She strikes resemblance to the boy sleeping on his lap with tears drying on his cheeks so Louis feels that it's safe to assume that the woman is his mother. An officer approaches her before she can reach Louis to presumably tell her the news. Louis watches as she breaks down in tears without discontinuing his movements. He wants to keep this boy safe, pure. Louis knows how it feels to have his entire world crumble in around him all at once. His goal is to ease the boy into everything instead of dropping it on him.

When the boy begins to shift around, whimpering and fisting Louis' shirt, Louis leans down and kisses his head, pressing his lips against the curly brown hair. It's obvious that the boy is having a nightmare, but the bad dream dissipates with Louis' kiss. As the boy calms down, he hums into Louis' jeans, falling asleep once more. 

A police officer comes over to talk to Louis about who Louis is now positive is the boy's father. Louis hopes the boy either doesn't find out or doesn't mind that Louis pretends to be his boyfriend to obtain the information he knows the boy will eventually need. The cop buys it and tells Louis that the gun shot killed him instantly and that the only pain he should have suffered through was the pain of his depression. Louis, of course, knows this already, but he urges the officer to continue anyways. He doesn't find out anything that he didn't already know, but he does however receive condolences. Louis feels wrong because he doesn't know anything about this family, yet he's receiving their condolences.

The woman, Louis realizes when the police officer steps away, is coming towards him again, her eyes fixated on the boy sleeping on his lap. Louis wonders if he should keep up the act, tell her that he is the boy's boyfriend, but decides against it. He doesn't know the boy's sexuality. He doesn't know anything about him except that he wants to protect him from all possible harm.

"Who are you?" The woman asks, tears still in her eyes.

It's that moment that the boy chooses to wake up enough to look up at Louis, awaiting his response.

Instead of responding to who must be his mother, Louis looks down at the boy before saying, "my name is Louis Tomlinson, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you from this moment forward."

At first, Louis wonders if that was too forward, but the boy seems to appreciate the sense of security it brings to him for he tears up again and squeezes Louis' torso, sobbing into his shirt. The woman, it seems, appreciates Louis' kindness as well. She mouths a 'thank you,' before sitting down next to Louis, tears welling in her eyes. Louis wraps his free arm around her and pats her back to comfort her. It doesn't feel quite as familiar as it does with the boy, but the woman doesn't appear to mind. She rests her head on Louis' shoulder and begins to cry. Louis' own eyes fill with tears as well. Perhaps it's because he's just witnessed yet another traumatic event or maybe it's because he's connected with these strangers. Either way, he holds both of them closer and sighs quietly.

He doesn't think about his broken down car. He doesn't think about how worried his mother must be that she hasn't received a phone call from Louis to tell her that he made it back to Uni safely. He doesn't think about anything but the woman and the boy. There's a part of him that wants to get to know them, even become a part of their family. Perhaps the lie he told the cop could become a reality. It's ridiculous, he knows it, but he can't help it. There's something about this that feels...right. Louis can't explain it. He just knows that for once in his life, something good, wonderful even, has come out of his terrible luck.

After about fifteen minutes of watching everyone clear out, Louis takes both the boy and the woman into the house. The boy had fallen asleep on Louis once again, so Louis has to carry him inside and place him in bed, covering him up and sitting on the edge of the bed to speak with the woman who stands at the doorway.

"Anne," she introduces herself, stepping forward to shake Louis' hand. "I'm sorry that you–" she begins, but her own sniffle cuts her off. Louis smiles softly to tell her that it's all right. "I have to go to work," she says, wiping her eyes and beginning to walk out, but she stops and turns to face Louis once more. "Thank you," is the only thing she says before walking off.

Louis stands up, figuring that he should at least call his mother to inform her of what has just happened, but the boy reaches out and grabs Louis' wrist before he can. His big green doe eyes plead into Louis' soul, making his heart ache.

"Don't leave me," he whimpers. "You promised you wouldn't leave me."

He feels pathetic, really, but he leans down and kisses the boy's forehead, brushing the curls away from his face.

"Not going to, sweetheart," he tells him, wondering where the term of endearment came from. "Not going to. I just need to call my mum, yeah? I'll be right back, I promise." 

The boy nods, giving Louis permission to walk out and call his mother which he does. Louis gives his mom the abbreviated version of what happened, earning a scolding for running into a house that a gunshot came from. Overall, his mother seems very proud of her compassionate son and tells him to do whatever he feels necessary. That makes Louis smile and tell his mother that he loves her before hanging up. Walking back into the boy's room, Louis notices the name 'Harry' written on the door in rainbow striped letters. Not only does this inform Louis of the boy's name, but it gives him a good idea of his sexuality. He doesn't want to stereotype, but he doesn't know any straight boy that would write their name in rainbow. Not one that values their masculinity, that is.

Harry is sleeping with a frown etched onto his face when Louis walks back in. Louis tries not to jump to conclusions, but he's fairly sure that the frown would fade if Louis was there sleeping with him. He decides to test his theory, sliding his shoes off and climbing into bed behind Harry. He wraps his arm around the boy's chest and pulls him close. Louis is incorrect, the frown doesn't disappear. It turns into a smile.

~~~

When Harry awakens, his head is on someone's strong chest with their arm wrapped around him, holding him close. Harry feels sedated, safe. It's a bit of an unfamiliar feeling, having been on edge ever since his father lost his job. At first Harry doesn't remember the incidents that have just occurred. It takes him a second to realize that what felt like a horrible nightmare is actually real. His father is gone. 

The realization makes Harry sniffle, holding tightly to the man's torso. The man. Yes, Harry remembers the kind man. The brave man that vowed to protect Harry at all costs, the strong man that has kept his cool throughout this entire time, the handsome man that is currently holding Harry tightly. The man, Louis, Harry remembers. Louis has seen Harry at his absolute worst and nothing else, yet continues to rub his back. Perhaps this man will help Harry through this difficult time. Maybe this man will keep his promise and stay with Harry. Harry's optimistic, he knows.

"Hey, hey," a soft but assertive voice speaks up.

Harry looks up at the man, Louis, he reminds himself, to see Louis looking back down at him. Harry hadn't realized that he had been crying, but apparently Louis had. His tears are dampening the man's shirt. Harry immediately feels horrible. 

"Sorry," he whispers, sitting up and wiping his tears away.

"None of that," Louis says quickly, sitting up as well. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Louis is, wow. Louis' oh so very attractive. His hair is ruffled from sleep, but the mussed quiff looks great nonetheless. He's got these great, ocean-coloured eyes that Harry keeps getting lost in. He's got a bit of stubble on his chin that Harry can't help but want to feel on his neck and face as they snuggle on the couch. Louis' shirt has slipped down a bit, giving Harry a small view of his chest and collarbones. On the said collarbones is what appears to be a tattoo in cursive handwriting. Harry can't quite make out what it says due to the shirt covering a few of the words, but he can make out a few of the doodles on the man's forearm.

They're sitting so close to each other, gazing into the other's eyes. Louis moves his hand up to Harry's face, wiping an escaped tear away. The touch makes Harry gasp, the quick intake of breath so quiet that it's nearly silent. Harry tears his eyes away from Louis', ducking his head to avoid eye contact. It's cheap, but it's all that Harry can do to avoid doing something imbecilic and to be regretted. 

"Harry," the man says, presumably to get his attention. "That's your name, right?"

Nodding, Harry looks back up at Louis. The man is really putting Harry into a comprising situation. He's too handsome for his own good, and he's kind and brave and protected Harry quite valiantly in the boy's opinion. Louis is chivalrous, heroic really. He is Harry's hero, as ludicrous as that sounds.

Harry wants to talk to Louis, tell him his full name and a little bit about himself, but he finds it difficult to pinpoint the words that he needs to use. Instead, Harry just stares into Louis' eyes, blushing whenever Louis wipes a tear off of his cheek. He can't feel the tears. They're just slipping out of his eyes one at a time. It's fairly bothersome because Harry can't compose himself when Louis is touching him. Eventually, Harry's tear ducts cease fire, but his mind is still foggy. 

He doesn't process when Louis places his hand on Harry's waist right where his shirt has ridden up to reveal his little love handles and begins to rub soothing circles into the skin. Harry opens his mouth only to close it again. Bringing his fist up to his mouth, he gnaws on the skin of his knuckle. It's a bit of a bad habit that he's had ever since he was a child, but it keeps him silent. However, in lieu of saying something stupid, Harry does irritate the skin of his first knuckle, turning it red.

"Quit that, love," Louis scolds gently, taking hold of the hand Harry is chewing on with the hand that isn't on the boy's waist. "You're going to make a sore," he tells Harry, looking at the red skin.

Suddenly, Harry doesn't feel like gnawing on his skin anymore. He would rather just sit there on his bed with one of Louis' hands on his waist and the other holding his hand. Harry's own free hand isn't so free. It's gripping the bedsheets as tightly as possible, keeping him in place, preventing him from reaching out to touch the tattoos on Louis' strong, strong biceps or trace the swirly letters of the mysterious phrase written on Louis' collarbones. 

The silence isn't awkward. True, Harry would rather put on some music and not have to worry about what he's going to say, but with Louis, he doesn't feel pressured to speak. It's like his eyes say it all so there are no need for words at all. Harry would like to say something of course, get to know Louis a little bit. All he really knows about the man is that he's either incredibly brave of incredibly stupid for running into Harry's home. Perhaps a combination of both. He's definitely got bravery somewhere in his heart, probably more that Harry hasn't come into contact with. He's also immensely kindhearted. Harry doesn't know anyone that would have done the same thing as Louis before they even knew each other.

That thought might be what gets Harry thinking about it again. Images of his father pulling the trigger flash through his mind, making his eyes tingle to inform Harry of the out coming tears.

"I could have saved him," Harry whimpers pathetically. "But I just stood there."

Before Harry can say anything else about his father, Louis pulls him into his lap. Harry sobs and blubbers about how it was all his fault until Louis tells him, in the kindest way possible, to shut up. In response, Harry whispers an, "okay," and continues to cry into Louis' shoulder. For a few more minutes, they stay in that position, Harry sitting sideways on Louis' lap with his arms around the man's neck, Louis' hand on Harry's back to hold him and his other wiping away the tears.

"You were temporarily paralyzed with fear, alright? It's not your fault, and I don't want you thinking that it is," Louis informs him sternly. Harry simply nods.

"I miss him..." Harry confesses, blinking up at Louis.

"I know," Louis tells him in a much softer tone than his previous words, holding him tighter. "I know you do."

No more tears come from Harry's eyes. He sits up straighter in Louis lap and sniffles. Louis asks him if he'd like to talk about it, but Harry only shakes his head, deciding that it might be a little too much for the moment. He's tired of crying, not sure if he can cry anymore if he's honest. Harry would rather not embarrass himself anymore as well. Louis doesn't mind, Harry knows that he doesn't, but he's still ashamed to have shown so much weakness in front of him. Then again, the way Louis treated him when Harry was weak felt better than Harry would like to admit. He hopes that Louis continues to treat him like this. It makes Harry feel content, taken care of, safe. That's the second time that Harry has associated the word safe with Louis, and every time it feels more and more right.

"Louis William Tomlinson," Louis says out of the blue. "I figure we can go back to sleep or you can get to know the stranger who has been comforting you for the past few hours. Your choice."

It's not really even a choice for Harry. He wants nothing more than to get to know Louis. Except 'stranger' isn't the word he would use to describe him. Harry already knew his first name, and he was crying in the man's arms for hours. They even slept in the same bed together. Sure, they met only a few hours ago, but they're far too close to be strangers. No, Louis isn't a stranger to Harry. Harry can only pray that he isn't one to Louis. 

"Harry Edward Styles," Harry tells him.

He slides off of Louis' lap and kneels on the bed to face Louis. They aren't strangers hopefully, but their former position was less friends and more lovers. They aren't lovers. They're people that connected through a tragic death and became friends. Once again, Harry hopes that they're friends.

Harry's gay. He's known ever since he figured out that boys being attracted to other boys was an actual thing. There was a short period in junior high when Harry was desperately trying to fit in where he pretended to fancy girls as well, but he gave up on that once he reached high school. He first came out to his sister who shrugged and told Harry that she herself was bisexual. He came out to his parents accidentally. He had been watching the telly when one of the characters had made a joke about the other character's father being bent to which Harry so cleverly commented, "not as bent as I am." His parents sat him down to discuss the term bent and what it meant, telling him that it was derogatory and not to be used by him. Harry blinked at them before informing them of his sexuality. Needless to say, they were very surprised, but accepted him nonetheless.

"My favourite food is probably pizza," Louis smiles. Harry's confusion must show on his face. "What?"

"It's just that I don't understand how pizza is your favourite food. You must work out constantly. Do you pump iron whilst you eat pizza?" Harry wonders, casually flirting and earning a laugh from Louis. "Mine's gotta be bananas. Something healthy since I'm not as active as you obviously are."

Harry's not wrong. Louis is extremely active. He had gotten a scholarship for football, and he loves just playing it for fun on the side. That and the training he does during other seasons does give him a fairly fit body. Louis does have to eat healthy though. It's not all pizza nights with the lads for him. Sometimes salad has to work. He should probably eat salad more often, but he finds it bland.

It's random on Harry's part, but he can't help it. He has to know. It's been bugging him ever since it first came to his attention. He hopes that it doesn't make Louis uncomfortable, but he has to figure it out.

"What were you doing outside of my house, and why in the world did you run in?"

Louis' smile drops instantaneously. He doesn't look offended, cautious actually. He looks as if he's worried to give the answer. He's probably worried that Harry won't be able to handle it. Harry wants to know, though. He doesn't care if it triggers him, and he bursts out in tears again, he'll just cry into Louis' arms. Louis will allow him to do that. Harry knows that he will, hardly knows Louis but knows that Louis will let him cry into his chest.

"My car broke down," Louis begins. "I was trying to go back to the University when it broke down. My parents' place isn't too far from here, so I was walking back there. I heard the- um...gunshot." 

He pauses to check on Harry. Noticing his glassy eyes, Louis puts his hand on the boy's shoulder and pulls him into his chest. Louis makes the safe decision to abandon his story and instead rock Harry back and forth. When Harry opens his mouth, body shaking as he tries to prevent the tears from leaving his eyes, Louis shushes him, apologizes for bringing it up, tells him that he doesn't have to say anything else. It's amiable of him to terminate the story simply because it's made Harry uncomfortable, but far more than magnanimous when Louis whispers compliments to Harry, mainly telling him that he's so strong.

His words should mollify Harry, but they only increase his tears. It's not because Harry is unappreciative but because it's all so much. Being told that his feelings are valid and that it doesn't matter if others have it worse because as long as it hurts, it matters, is more than anyone has ever done for him. Harry's entire body quakes when Louis tells him that he's beautiful even when he cries. It's just that this gorgeous man has just told Harry that he is beautiful and that he would love to listen to Harry's emotions. Sobs wrack his body as Harry grips Louis' shirt and wets Louis' shoulder and chest with his tears and unfortunately snot. Harry expects Louis to force Harry to cry into a tissue, but Louis does the exact opposite. He lifts up the bottom of his shirt and wipes Harry's cheek with it. Ordinarily, Harry would have taken the opportunity to glance at Louis' abs, but his eyes are currently filled with tears so he passes.

When Harry pulls back to look at Louis, final tears streaming down his face, Louis smiles at him, wipes the tears off with his thumb, and kisses Harry's cheek despite its wetness. Harry freezes, mouth agape as he stares at Louis. Nonchalantly, Louis places both of his hands on Harry's hips and stares deeply into Harry's tear filled eyes. In order not to faint, Harry closes his eyes, mouth still hanging open slightly. Harry thinks he hears Louis mutter a quick, "fuck it," but he's not quite sure.

Before he knows it, Louis' lips are on his, kissing him chastely and quickly. Short as it may be, it's perfect. It's as if their lips were made for each other, Harry's larger ones and Louis' thinner ones. Harry still doesn't quite understand the phrase fireworks. It feels more like a symphony orchestra playing the most beautifully written love songs. It's magical, no doubt, but the feeling is not as violent as people make it sound. It's a serene and harmonious sea of love.

"Kiss me," Harry whispers. He means 'again', but Louis gets the idea nonetheless.

Their lips press together once again as Harry wraps his arms around Louis' neck to keep Louis close even though he's not planning on going anywhere until he absolutely must. Harry feels so light, as if he's going to float away from Louis like a balloon of infatuation. His only rope to anchor him down is Louis. Louis, his compass to guide him home. Louis, the arrow that has just pierced through Harry's heart. Louis, his knight in shining armour.

"Thank you," is the first thing Harry murmurs when they break apart.

They are staring deeply into each other's eyes. Green shining with adoration for blue. Blue soaking it up and sending it right back. Louis doesn't understand why Harry thanked him, but before he can voice his confusion, Harry explains, presumably reading the emotion on Louis' face.

"For keeping your promise. For not leaving me," he explains, blushing slightly. "For just being you."

He doesn't get a chance to smile at the comment, grin and show off his cheerful smile, for the boy connects their lips again, tasting his glee. It is different then their first two, almost like it's confirming any doubts about each other's feelings. The first was cautious, testing the dangerous waters. The second one to be sure of their own feelings. But once their lips touch for a third time, all caution is thrown to the wind, like once they know that they are both on board, they can take the anchor out of the water.

Once Louis notices that Harry is attempting to scoot closer, he pulls the boy back onto his lap without disconnecting their lips. Harry moves his hand forward to cup the side of Louis' face, feel the prickly stubble that Louis hadn't felt the need to shave. It's nice under his hand, and he can only imagine how it would feel on softer areas of his body such as his neck. He wants that, wants Louis to hold him and kiss his neck while whispering sweet nothings into his skin. 

The emotion that Harry is feeling is one that he has rarely experienced before, the one that is fairly common and usually leads to something more, the one called affection. He feels affectionate towards Louis, and it is a wonderful feeling. He hopes, like affection often does, it will lead to something more.

"There's something else you should know about me," Harry whispers as Louis wetly kisses the junction of his neck and jaw. Louis hums against the skin to ask Harry to continue. "I'm gay."

Well, yeah. Louis had pretty much figured that out, so he ceases the kiss to look up to where Harry sits on his lap and laughs happily when he sees the joking glint in Harry's eyes. Harry giggles and uses the hand he has on Louis' cheek to press their lips together so they might kiss some more.

Harry smiles into the kiss, moving back to look at Louis before leaning towards the bed, giving Louis no other option than follow Harry's lead and continue their kiss laying on his bed. Louis wraps his arms around Harry's back and pulls him closer as they express their emotions to each other in the form of a kiss.

~~~

Louis only realizes that he had fallen asleep when he wakes up. What wakes him is the opening of Harry's room door. As it turns out, Harry was also awoken by his mother entering. It's not like they had sex. They had only snogged. Louis had even astonishingly refrained from moving his hands down past the small of Harry's back. Despite their lack of sex, they both feel as if they've been caught when Anne walks in on them, Harry still curled up into Louis' arms, lips red like his eyes had previously been.

The last time a parent had walked in on Louis and another boy, Louis had jumped out of the window. This time, Louis simply sits up and runs a hand through his ruined hair. When Louis looks down, he sees that Harry is still plastered to his side, hand splayed across his chest and head on his shoulder.

Greeting the newly widowed mother of the boy who he has just been passionately making out with and then fell asleep next to is not something that Louis knows how to do. He knows that he hasn't done anything wrong. Not really. In fact, if anything, he's been helpful for Harry's healing process. Still, he can't shake the feeling that he's disrespected Anne. By snogging her son or what, Louis can't place his finger on it, but he feels wrong. Fortunately for Louis, Harry saves him from explaining himself.

"Hey, mum," he greets simply.

Harry's mother, bless her, ignores the fact that her son is in bed with another man and focuses on her hospitality. "Louis," she says to make sure that she has his name correct. "Would you like to stay for dinner."

Declining would be rude especially when the two have just lost someone so crucial to their family. It's that reason that Louis nods with a smile, not the boy in his arms. The boy has not influenced his decision at all. Louis doesn't think about how easily he was able to make Harry smile when he agrees. He doesn't think about the way Harry giggled into their kisses. He doesn't thing about the way Harry's green eyes seem to sparkle whenever he looks at him.

When Louis looks down at the boy gleaming up at him, he realizes that he's lying to himself.

They don't notice when Anne walks out of the room, far too captivated by each other. It's a split second of them just staring at each other, memorizing every detail, then it's lips on lips, hand on neck, chest on chest. Then it's strong liking, not quite love yet. Then it's them, just kissing each other and enjoying every moment. 

The moment ends when Louis feels a tear that has slipped from Harry's eyes and managed to find its way to Louis' skin. It shocks Louis initially. He doesn't understand why Harry is crying until he pulls away to check on the boy. The tears aren't solely tears of sadness and grief, they're happy tears as well. Harry is smiling as he's crying. Laughing lightly as he wipes his tears away and apologizing softly. Louis is quick to tell him that everything is alright and that he need not say sorry.

It's evident that Harry is feeling overwhelmed with feelings, both good and bad, and Louis just wants to help him sort through all of them, assist the boy in deciding which emotions to deal with and which to keep and savour. He wants to stay with Harry and kiss him and tell him that he's beautiful. He wants to have a relationship with Harry. So what if he's not even known the boy for a day, he's already witnessed and dealt with more of Harry's emotions than many of Harry's friends have. He feels as if he knows Harry. He might not know his favourite colour or trivial things like that, but he knows that Harry likes to be coddled and spooned. He knows where Harry likes to be kissed, and where he likes to kiss. He knows the sound Harry makes when he's really happy and the one he makes when he's in despair. He might not know Harry, but he does know him in all of the ways that matter.

Instead of continuing their kiss as Louis predicted, Harry buries his head into Louis' shoulder and stars giggling. The change of emotion should surprise Louis, but it doesn't. In fact, Louis hardly reacts. He holds Harry close and laughs along with him. Neither know what they're laughing at, but neither care.

Soon, the smell of freshly cooked spaghetti fills their noses, causing their laughter to decrease slowly. A stunning smile is on Harry's face when he pulls his head out of Louis' shoulder to look at him, and Louis notices once again how beautiful the boy is.

The boy has these two front teeth that Louis finds inexplicably endearing, and his hair is so curly that ringlets are actually present. His beautiful, pink lips that Louis have become very familiar with other the past hour or so are stretched to form that smile that makes Louis smile as well. He's also got two prominent dimples that have Louis' heart practically melting on the spot. Louis makes note of the fact that Harry's already beautiful eyes look much more gorgeous when they're filled with happiness instead of anguish.

Dinner is ready. They are both very much aware of that, but they cannot seem to force themselves to move. Harry's not moving from Louis' lap, and Louis is far too content to have him there to move. So they sit there, staring into each other's eyes and grinning like idiots. Louis knows that Harry is still in pain, but as long as he can smile a true smile that makes both of his dimples appear, he can be fixed. Des left a mess, but Louis is there to clean it up. Louis is there to piece Harry back together, piece by beautiful piece.

Slowly moving forward to capture Harry's lips, Louis temporarily suspends their fond looks. The kiss is short and sweet, much like their first one, but it lingers for much longer like the smell of the ocean on clothes.

As soon as the kiss is ended, Harry frowns, knowing that they'll have to stand up and eat with Anne. Louis sympathizes with the feeling and shows Harry this by pressing an even shorter kiss to his pouty lips. Harry can't help but smile at that, as he slides off of Louis' lap and on to the bed. The boy watches as Louis stand up and stretches before reaching his hand out for Harry to place his atop of it. Once Harry complies, Louis pulls him up, but Harry promptly trips over his own feet and stumbles into Louis, catching himself with a hand on the man's chest and a bout of laughter that's swallowed up by silence as they look into each other's eyes.

The warmth Louis emits, some most likely from Harry himself, is enough to make the boy want to stand there in Louis arms for the rest of his life. Little does Harry know, Louis feels the exact same way. He wants to hold Harry in his arms for as long as possible. He wants to grab Harry playfully as they splash around in the water on a summer holiday. He wants to wrap the boy up in a blanket and his arms on a cold winter's night. He wants to be Harry's big spoon every night as they go to sleep. He wants to hold Harry as often as possible. 

"Don't leave me," Harry says, terminating the silence.

He's begged Louis not to leave him three times in the brief period of time that they have known each other, but Louis' answer remains unwavering. He would never leave Harry. He didn't want to leave him the first time Harry asked, and he still wants to stand by Harry. Louis knows that he's already begun to fall for the boy, and he's not about to let someone he cares so much about go. He knows better.

He knows better than to attempt to climb out of the hole of love he has dug himself into. It's futile, anyways. Louis has fallen too deep, too quickly into that treacherous yet alluring abyss called love. He doesn't believe in love at first sight, but he believes in this, whatever it may be. Coup de foudre be damned. He believes in them.

Louis grabs Harry's hand and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before making a promise that he's sure to keep. "Never."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first fic on AO3. It took me far too long to write for the 7,000 words of fluff and crying that it is. I also wrote all of this at midnight and beyond. In fact, it's 1am right now. Alright, this is trash. Not a great start, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
> 
> You can also follow me on tumblr. It's the same url because I'm lame. I love you. Bye xx :)


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